


scrappy

by fiction fetishist (fictionfetishist)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:45:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionfetishist/pseuds/fiction%20fetishist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murasakibara tackles math. / Midorima hates his birthday. / Kagami is not running a bed and breakfast, dammit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	scrappy

**Murasakibara tackles math. — Murasakibara, Kuroko**

“Murasakibara-kun,” Kuroko says. “This may come as a surprise to you, but the pi in determining the area of a circle does not actually refer to an actual pie.”

“Oh,” Murasakibara says, dropping the book from his mouth, scraping off wayward scraps of paper from his tongue. “No wonder it didn’t taste good.” Then, “You don’t think Aka-chin will be mad, do you? This is his book, after all.”

Kuroko taps his pencil against his chin, recalling how Akashi had very graciously allowed them to borrow his notes for the upcoming exam. “I don’t think he’d take it very well, to be honest.”

“Oh man,” Murasakibara says, draping himself over the table. “Do you think he’d notice if we tried to tape it back together?”

Kuroko glances at the half-eaten pages, all blurred and covered with saliva, and shakes his head. “That would probably only make things worse, Murasakibara-kun.”

“What do we do, Kuro-chin?” Murasakibara asks, opening a bag of chips and eating more haphazardly than usual.

“We could always tell him Kise-kun did it,” Kuroko suggests, after giving it approximately 0.5 seconds of thought.

“That’s genius, Kuro-chin,” Murasakibara exclaims, dumping the remains of his chips into his mouth.

“Yes,” Kuroko says, brushing off the stray crumbs Murasakibara leaves on his notebook. “Now how about we move on to literature in the meantime? And please,” he continues, “No more eating the pages, okay, Murasakibara-kun?”

“Okay, Kuro-chin,” Murasakibara says, busying himself with a bar of chocolate now. “You don’t need to tell me twice. I’ve learned my lesson.” Paper isn’t nearly as good as goats make it out to be.

 

**(omake)**

The next day:

Akashi swiftly sentences Kise to five times the normal amount of practice. (It was originally supposed to be only three, but Kise had dared to deny the accusations placed before him, and Akashi was only too pleased to give him the appropriate punishment.)

Also the next day:

“Akashicchi is so mean, Kurokocchi, like, why would I even eat his book in the first place?” Kuroko lets Kise cry to him.

“There, there, Kise-kun,” Kuroko consoles, patting him on the back. “Now I believe you promised me a week’s worth of vanilla shakes?”

 

It was a very delicious week, as far as Kuroko was concerned.

 

* * *

 

**Midorima hates his birthday. — Team Shutoku**

“Thank you… for this, senpai,” Midorima says, taking the pineapple with his free hand.

It’s surprisingly heavier than it looks, Midorima soon finds, and its asymmetry with today’s relatively small figurine lucky item is already driving him mad. Midorima tries not to scowl, “It’s… very thoughtful of you.”

“You bet it is,” Miyaji sneers, eyeing him with much disdain. “We could have thrown it at your head.”

“Right,” Midorima says, looking down and feeling extremely out of sorts now that he is unable to push his glasses back up with both his hands occupied.

Takao just laughs and laughs and laughs.

Midorima hates his birthday.

 

* * *

 

**Kagami is not running a bed and breakfast, dammit. — Kagami/Momoi/Aomine**

“Is this, like, a thing now,” Kagami says upon getting home, silently judging Japan for how quickly it took for his revelation that he lived alone to all these freeloaders swarming his apartment like moths to a flame.

“I look forward to you taking care of us every week,” is how Momoi chooses to respond to that, not even looking the least bit guilty.

“What she said,” Aomine sounds off in affirmation, lounging around on Kagami’s couch and taking advantage of his satellite TV.

“How did you two even get in here,” Kagami bothers to ask, sadly resigning himself to a life where he’s doomed to be surrounded by weirdos 24/7.

“We used your key,” Aomine answers.

“You should pick a better place to hide your spare, Kagamin,” Momoi advises. “Who knows what sorts of people could get in without you knowing?”

“You mean people like you,” Kagami thinks to say, but stops himself when he catches Momoi’s smile, sweet yet definitely laced with promises of disproportionate retribution if provoked. Kagami doesn’t think he ever wants to understand women.

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind,” he says, instead, putting away the groceries he’d bought into the kitchen.

“I want lobster,” Aomine hollers.

“And I’ll have salmon, please,” Momoi requests.

And just Kagami looks at them over the counter, “I’m not a waiter, you guys. And I don’t even have ingredients for those.”

“Then go buy some,” Aomine says, testily.

“Now, now, Dai-chan,” Momoi chides. “If Kagamin says he doesn’t have them, then he doesn’t have them,” and Kagami starts to think that, maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad. But then, to him, Momoi says, “Now, Kagamin, I understand if you don’t have them this time, but try to be more prepared next week, okay?” and Kagami goes right back into wallowing in despair.

Sundays are gonna _suck_ , aren’t they.


End file.
